The End of a Long Day
by Laury the Latrator
Summary: Or Something More? How does it feel to be on the outside looking in? Or on the inside wishing you were out? Shawn and Juliet experience something very similar. Henry thrown in just for fun. Enjoy you Shules lovers/Shabigail haters!


Juliet stood with her forehead against the wall, focusing intently on only the feel of the pillar cooling her slightly flushed skin. Relief. That was what she had decided to call this corner: pure relief.

This case had been grueling to say the least. The station had become a three ring circus in no time as their serial killer spread his area of influence across the coast. Considering the culprit seemed to be a Santa Barbara resident as his reign of terror had begun in their town, the case had thankfully remained under their jurisdiction. But that didn't stop the parade of useless helping hands like the FBI or the Sheriff. Not to mention the self-appointed Head Psychic for the SBPD and his merry band of misfits.

A light groan escaped Juliet's lips as she turned around so her back lay against the plaster, letting the wall fully support her as the weight of the weeks' events crashed upon her shoulders. Her eyes drifted of their own accord to the conference room. She could _just_ see Shawn and Abigail through the half closed blinds. Shawn sat slumped over the desk, one arm supporting his head as he read through another file. His girlfriend stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, gently kneading with those perfectly manicured fingers his tense muscles, probably giving him a pep talk. This was one of those times Shawn aptly described as Crunch Time. It had been ages since they'd spent Crunch Time together, since she would be the one talking him through the problem, since she might have gently took his fingers in her own in a last ditch effort to give him a little comfort...

"Evening Detective." A gruff greeting snapped O'Hara out of her reverie. She turned her head slightly, exhaustion making the acknowledgement much less effective.

"Hello Mr. Spencer." The older man held up an extra cup of coffee in a silent gesture. Forgetting the fact it was probably past midnight already, they both knew she would be bunking in the crib tonight, the caffeine was a welcome sight. She took it gladly and paused for a moment, basking in the warmth now circulating through her. When she was finally content, Juliet addressed the man again.

"Did you need something sir?" It was considerably awkward talking to Mr. Spencer. She had never really been alone with him. Sure they'd bumped into each other on cases before, spent silent nights in the hospital together, but they never really got close. Juliet of course was a friendly person, you don't get greeting cards from people you've arrested by being like Lassiter, and as Shawn's father she knew she would like him unconditionally. Naturally she respected him as an ex-cop with a phenomenal record, and she was grateful whenever he added his input on a tough case like this one. Nonetheless... it was awkward.

"No, I just thought you might need a pick-me-up. It's a bad one today, isn't it." The tone of his voice still held that impassivity, but Juliet thought she heard the concern for a fellow detective hidden in his neutral message.

"Well thank you sir."

"You can stop with the 'sir' nonsense, I'm not that old." Juliet bit her lower lip but managed to keep quiet. She thought there had been some sort of argument on this subject when Carlton had been grumbling about how young he was compared to 'the geezer'. But she stifled her giggles and remained professional.

"Alright Mr. Spencer, but you have to call me Juliet rather than Detective O'Hara."

"Henry likewise." He countered. Juliet smiled warmly at him even though the awkward level had just risen about ten points. "How's the case coming?" Henry asked, the slightly tender quality disappearing as he returned to detective mode. Juliet found herself getting a bit giddy that she had heard it at all. With a small cough she reconstructed her blank mask.

"There's been another body found in Lookout County Park near the 101 by some tourists. Same MO, strangled then mutilated," The tough exterior of Henry Spencer grimaced in disgust as he recalled the gory remains of the man's other 8 victims, "Age 14 maybe, what could have been blond hair, pale skin, desecrated beyond recognition. It's definitely the same guy." She confirmed for him. "Lassiter's gone with to investigate the scene with one of the FBI agents. I'm waiting for his call but so far that's all I have."

"What about the others? Any prints or IDs?"

"Only one, a Ms. Rachel Gree. The third victim. It seems he was a little sloppy on that one." Henry nodded.

"Any leads at all?" He asked, his voice never betraying any sort of emotion other than calm curiosity.

"The FBI profiler thinks it's a pedophile who's trying to get rid of his 'temptation'." Juliet told him, skepticism evident. It was odd how comfortable he made discussing a serial killer. "But Shawn thinks that's complete bullcrap." Suddenly feeling like she'd cursed in front of her dad, Juliet cleared her throat and continued. "And I agree, I mean there's no evidence of sexual anything. It's a very clear objective, a clean kill, and it just doesn't fit with the FBI's assessment." Henry nodded again, this time with a hint of a smile. They both took a sip of their coffee in silence for a minute. When they resurfaced from the lovely beverage, Spencer spoke again.

"You're good, you know." Juliet was bewildered at the compliment coming from the gruff ex-cop. She straightened and pushed off her wonderful wall as she stuttered for a moment.

"I—er, um—t-thanks—erm... sir?" The man smiled, still not facing the befuddled detective, which only proceeded to confuse her more.

"I thought we agreed I was Henry, not sir." He glanced at her, as she abruptly stopped staring at him and turned her head forward. "You'll solve this." Henry assured her. "You've got a good head on your shoulders."

Juliet focused on the shuttered room directly in her line of sight. Abigail was leaning on Shawn's shoulder, her arms hugging him lightly and hands resting on his chest. They were cheek to cheek, and she turned her head to whisper in his ear. Whatever she said must've been good, because Shawn smiled wide, that lopsided grin Juliet adored so much. He swivelled slightly in her embrace to reply but somehow his eyes found hers.

Juliet couldn't look away. Overlook the fact that his father was studying her intently, the fact that his girlfriend was pulling back to inquire something to him (probably why he had frozen), the fact that they were in the station and a vicious murderer was on the loose, the fact that it was wrong, so so wrong! Their eyes were locked and they couldn't move. Even at this distance Juliet could see the seriousness in his hazel eyes, a glint of forest green in their depths that seemed to darken his entire face with it's power. She felt trapped, she couldn't breathe, she was suffocating under the force of his gaze. There was no laughter across his features, the playful remark he would have made to Abigail had died on his lips, all that was left was an intense look of concentration as he seemed to map out her eyes. Juliet couldn't let him. He would see too much.

Juliet jerked her head to look Mr. Spencer directly in the eyes, eyes that had softened in what could only be sympathy as he understood the silent dialogue. Pursing her lips in determination, she nodded farewell to him and stalked away, high heels clattering their approval of the exit.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Earlier... /\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Shawn's head pounded as he poured over the autopsy report yet again. Something about the third victim was off, he knew it. He wasn't certain yet, but it just didn't make sense that an accomplished killer who could destroy two bodies beyond identification without leaving a trace behind would botch the next job and then just go back to being perfect. There was no chance the man was drunk or high enough to impair his work, because the level of damage done to that poor girl's body was so great it demanded he be lucid. He was just not as skillful that one time. It was a puzzle.

Shawn pressed his hand farther into his forehead, the small stars that erupted behind his eyelids a small distraction. God he hated Crunch Time.

"Hey." The soft feminine voice alerted him and he straightened. Maybe it was Jules, coming to help in the mystery solving or bringing him take out. Before Shawn had a chance to follow that train of thought further, delicate hands had rested on his shoulders and he could feel the woman's chin brush against the top of his head. Definitely not Jules then. Shawn buried the disappointment as he replied.

"Hey Abs." It was the short answer that probably alerted her.

"What's wrong hun?" Shawn's mouth twisted into a grimace of it's own volition. _There was a butchering maniac targeting preteen girls running amok and she has to ask what's wrong?_

"Just this case. Something's bothering me about the third victim, Rachel Gree, but I can't figure it out. It's the only one we could identify." Abigail began to massage the knots that had formed on his shoulders. Grudgingly, Shawn relaxed under her ministrations.

"But isn't that a good thing? You guys have made progress on that one, shouldn't you be focusing on the unnamed ones?" She asked. Shawn again frowned. Her naiveté and innocent convincibility may work in the kindergarten classroom, but it made her a horrible detective's helper.

"You've been listening to the FBI." He accused. "You know how I feel about obeying Federal agents." Shawn could hear the smile in her voice.

"How about this, next time a crossing guard tells me to stop, I'll just walk right into the street. I'll even throw in a car chase on my next ticket for good measure."

"Fair trade." He agreed playfully. Shawn returned his attention to the photos on the table. Focusing on the remains of her right foot, Shawn noticed there was a bit of skin left on the right side of each toe. That meant the slashings against the girl's feet, so no one could match feet prints, were at a different angle. Every single victim was skinned up and down, except this one. Rachel's toes had been sliced diagonally. Interesting.

"It's terrible." Abigail interrupted. Shawn raised his head a fraction of an inch to show he was listening. Her fingers kept soothing his shoulders as she leaned down so her head was level with his, only over his left shoulder. He could _just_ see out of the corner of his eye the tiny smile she had on her face. She continued proudly. "But you'll do it. You'll nail that son of a bitch and make him pay for all those girl's deaths. I believe in you and your gift." Abs shifted closer so her lips brushed against his left ear as she spoke. "And when you do, I have a surprise involving you, me, and pineapple flavored body gel." Shawn's mouth curled into a grin at the suggestion and turned his head to tell his dream girl how much he hoped pineapple flavored shower gel was edible, when he froze before he could get a word out.

Because there she was. His dream girl. Shawn could make her out through the half-closed blinds just fine. She stood still, her chin raised in defiance of something Shawn couldn't understand, with her back resting lightly against the wall. Standing with his dad of all people, a styrofoam cup of coffee clutched in her hand, raised just under her lips. Lips that were still moist and slightly red from the warm beverage. But as he took this all in it was her eyes he stared into.

The grey blue struck him like pure ice. Shawn shivered but dared not break eye-contact. There was that spark of defiance still lingering in her eyes, lying beneath the pain and fear and sadness. Shawn's perfect memory pulled up the image of that very look, months ago when both their hearts broke over popcorn and Necco wafers. It was mesmerizing, and made Shawn want to march over and hold her tight, convince her she was not alone, that he felt it too.

Abigail was moving away, releasing the hug just enough to look at him. "Shawn? Shawn, hun, what is it? Are you alright?" She sounded concerned, like he was having a stroke rather than a revelation. Because it was Jules he wished had been wrapped around him; Jules he wished he had woken up to this morning; Jules who would never have to ask how he was when a serial killer was murdering little children, who would just hold his hand while they worked through it together.

Shawn continued to ignore Abigail's questions as he gazed into her eyes. Her face was tensing, as if she were about to cry. And something flared withing the haze of grey and blue.

Jules turned to his father, who Shawn abruptly realized had probably seen all that, and after a brisk nod simply about faced and walked away. Shawn blinked.

"Hey, are you ok? You kinda spaced out for a while." Abigail told him. He turned to look back at her, blank confusion easy to read on his face. Her eyes widened and she gasped. _Please say 'OMG, you're in love with someone else'..._

"You had a vision didn't you!" Shawn blinked again. _Oh, right_.

"Vision. Yes. Yes, I did! And it was a doozy!" He launched straight into his explanation with only a minor hitch. "Rachel Gree was not killed by our serial killer!" Abby gasped again, accepting it without question. Yet another annoying trait... "It was a sloppy job because it wasn't done by a professional. Someone just wanted to capitalize on the easy opportunity to get away with her murder."

"You have to find two killers!" She exclaimed.

"Exactly!" He replied, equally enthused. Anything to move past the last look in her eyes...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Meanwhile... /\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Henry had to hand it to him: the boy chose well this time. She would be tough on him when she had to be. She would be soft and gentle when he needed it. She would understand him because they were similar and would complement him because they were different.

Yes, Henry Spencer definitely approved of Juliet. If only they would come to their senses. With a sigh, Mr. Spencer finished the last of his coffee and walked away. He was gonna have to wait a long time for grandkids...


End file.
